


Angel

by LavendarWater



Category: EXO (Band), f(x), 소녀시대 | Girls' Generation | SNSD
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bullying, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Minor Character Death, More tags to be added, References to Depression, it's more of a plot device I guess?, more of a plot device I guess?, relationship is not central, relationship is not central to the story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-09-27 16:33:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10032278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LavendarWater/pseuds/LavendarWater
Summary: Married. They're getting married and god damn if she isn't trying her best to rub it in the other girl's face. Amber fell hard for him, but he never saw her as anything more than a good friend, one of the guys; she should have resented him for it, but all he had to do was smile and he was forgiven. She was weak.Jessica, on the other hand, was not. She knew what she was doing; part of the bridal party, because why on earth would she want to exclude a close family friend? One of the first to know; her little sister just had to share the news before the rest of the world found out. Present for every dress fitting, every reception decision, every smirk and sly smile they thought she couldn't see.It was enough to drive anyone to the brink of madness.PLEASE NOTE: if you recognise this from elsewhere (specifically AFF) it's because I posted it. I've lost both my password and email I set up the easyflowers account on, so I no longer have access to it there. I do, however, still have chapter plans etc backed up and I kinda want to finish this one.





	1. We're all mad here

**Author's Note:**

> So, chapter one is probably the second heaviest going out of them all, but probably the most direct as well? There's going to be heavy drug and alcohol usage referenced, also some discussion - direct and implied - around the minor character death(s) and depression, addiction and anxiety. I think thats all? Or at least, the more common ones. If I have missed any, please do tell me. I'd hate it if I missed anything.
> 
> I'm also all about that feedback life. I live for the stuff (also uni deadlines, but whatchu gonna do about that?) and I love constructive criticism. This is self-beta'd, I have gone back over it and I don't think I missed anything glaringly obvious, but as with the triggers, let me know if there's anything you spot.

The world was spinning, pitching out of control. It hummed with an energy that could not be contained, one that burned itself into the soul and took all control from those so immersed in it. Even with eyes squeezed tight to try and block it out, the lights still swirled in undefinable patterns, still kept the bodies in the world, no matter how they tried to escape it. The once enjoyable thrum of bass and comforting insistence of its beat seemed now to cut right through and steal any hope of breath left in their lungs. It was enough to survive in this place. The body heat that so often was more of a comfort grew uncomfortable as clothes clung and hair started to matt under the influence of lights and sweat, skin burning at the slightest brush of anything. Skin on skin, clothes clinging, scratching, soaked in heat from their wearers; another soul’s breath hitting the back of her neck as they walked past. She felt it, they all felt it and how anyone was still standing was a mystery, although maybe it was because bodies were so closely pressed together that none had gone down yet. It was too much, too intense, and yet…and yet the chaos without was just right to match the chaos within.

Anyone looking on would be forgiven for seeing an innocent enough celebration; was it unusual for so much wanton lust to be in the air? With all things considered, not really. Yet, they all knew better: those kisses weren’t just kisses, the groups of women parading in and out of bathrooms weren’t just going in to gossip, and it wasn’t just one or two glasses of something or other. The night was alive and blood boiled in veins, fuelled by hedonism, debauchery, blasphemy: they were all deviants disguised as angels.

Though for some, this scene, these acts, were more familiar than the higher ups would like to admit.

Maybe it would have come as a surprise to find them hiding away on balconies, high above the writhing masses, and out in the open air. Maybe they were simply getting too old, too tired of this game, It was for the young, beautiful and inexperienced. This cat and mouse high was for the rookies and church goers. Those who still sought the approval of someone else would spend coming months on their knees, begging for forgiveness from these self-inflicted sins. These watching on; they had left the fairy tales filled with hope for a better tomorrow behind. They had all seen how good it got, they had all tasted the highs of success, of record breaking achievement, and the bitter lows of grief and failure. They knew chaos, and they tired of it. They extended their hand, reigning down a soft deadness on those who sought it; if there was no hope, no god and no fairy tale ending, then they had to find their own way out. For some, that had been a more…final way out than others.

These lost romantics held onto every drifting soul they could with a grip so tight, only the gods they denied could have torn it apart. Shattered minds and hearts were terrible things to try to mend, and their most recent chain was…so delicate, so pained. As she swirled in the bodies below, floating ever closer, their hearts ached more; to lose just one was terrible, but to lose her would break so many. Losing her was already breaking countless hearts. Hearts that only went to build up the pomp and arrogance of their contemporaries. Tonight, they had won with their thinly veiled promise of escape into a separate world; one where anyone could be happy, and who wanted to fight against being happy?

Whilst they stayed trapped in their concern, she found herself torn between euphoria and terror. In the blink on an eye, she could be sitting on rooftops in blinding sunlight and in the next, she found herself plunged into a world of shadows and faces she fought to remember. She had been promised freedom, but instead found herself shackled with a foot in either world and with no way out, not without hacking both legs off and praying she could drag herself far enough.

But…who did she pray to now?

The realisation was a sobering one, one that found her thrown to the floor and hands grabbing for her. Some rational portion of her mind tried to insist they were only helping, that they were concerned, but the irrational…it was too loud, it screamed at her as she pulled away, trying desperately to scramble to her feet. No-one could warn you how bad a trip could be, because no-one knew and no-one would ever experience exactly the same thing as you. They wouldn’t know what these voices would tell you, how something as simple as a speck on the wall could transform into the woman trying to choke you. They were worth it though; as awful as the bad could be, the good ones always made up for it. A wall could become the solidity you longed for, the unity felt in a moment could be enough to ground some people for a life time. But…this wasn’t good right now. 

Maybe she shouldn’t have fought against the arms hoisting her up, but the world beneath her was gone for a moment and she was so sure she was falling. She needed the wall against her back, she needed the floor to cool her legs. The thin bar of flesh around her ribs wasn’t enough to stop her slipping, and the one looped under her legs would only hurt her more when she hit the floor. If she hit the floor. It didn’t matter how tight the grip, how solid the body supporting her weight, she needed to get down now, no matter how relaxing the sway was as they walked, regardless of the noise decreasing as they moved, nor how much her own skin cooled down in that short period of time. Despite her minds insistence that she needed to be down right then, her body betrayed her, hand twisting itself into their shirt as she clung to them. She dared not look up to see just who had saved her, though she had a fair idea of just who had come for her: didn’t he always?

“It’s amazing, all this extravagance.”

The voices were distant, and most certainly did not belong to the man carrying her. It was too soft, for one, too feminine for another. It smacked of disinterest and distaste in the events it observed. They were right though; the levels of extravagance were…

“Entirely unwarranted.”

Talk about taking the words out of her mouth.

“And to think, the moment more than two people asked to go to one wedding…”

This second speak scoffed as the first trailed off. They were right though. As she recalled, through haze and descending stillness, everyone’s schedules had gone from packed to inhumane when Hangeng and Liyin announced their wedding. On a personal note, she would have loved to have been present. Then again, so would have most of the company: despite the so called betrayal, they were still deeply loved by many. Maybe if they’d been treated better, those two would have stuck around and they’d still be here now. Maybe they would have been the ones to get this treatment, instead of the cold shoulder. Despite so many asking, all found themselves with something else conveniently cropping up that day; even idols long since considered inactive found demands crawling out of the woodwork. Amber had found herself sitting in an airport, waiting for her flight back to Los Angeles for some…acting master class. Really, she had no complaints; her desires didn’t lay in acting, but what harm would one more string do to her bow? Then again, it had been two years and they were yet to really use said class for anything of note.

The world around her pitched again and in her panic she clung, like a child, to the only solid object in reach. There was a sigh (though not one of irritation) and a tightening around her ribs as she found herself on a lap, head tucked into their shoulder.

It shouldn’t surprise her though; the way the company had stopped utilising her. Some would argue she had bought it on herself; like they’d do anything with her these days. She was a liability, as her beloved leader had reminded her in an outburst not all that long ago. It was an excuse to force her to not be in the public eye. 

She had little doubt that these great lengths would have been gone to for anyone else, but when you considered just who the couple consisted of...

There was a jostling, and she sunk far further down than she should have, landing in a bed of…something cool and soft. She could have fallen asleep there, all she would have to do was close her eyes and…no, not these days. It wasn’t so simple. Sleep didn’t come so easily in her growing age. Still, her eyes were heavy and the air was far too warm, too heavy, to really keep her awake. To anyone looking on, they could be forgiven for assuming there was a human sized doll in the lap of a doll sized human; or maybe two dolls in this manic scene. It would have fit with the aesthetic; women in fantastical dresses, ethereal men elegant suit and half animal looking creatures lurking in the shadows. You would miss them if not for the occasional flash of light coming in from the floors below. They were quietly terrifying, enough so that a quiet whimper escaped her throat: if these half beast men on the edge of reality hadn’t been enough to scare her, the thousand eyes on her in that moment of broken silence certainly would have broken even the sanest and well balanced of individuals.

Anyone could be forgiven for mistaking the mass for an actual animal: nothing would surprise anyone in this seemingly alternate dimension. It was a person though; one crawling on hands and knees to lean against her shoulder. The black and white bundle turned to watch her with peculiar eyes; one could argue there was a film, a cage, over the glittering wildness in their depths. It was a desperate wilderness, and the cage as hopeless as it was overpowering. Though, to many they would look as lifeless and doll-like as the bodies he joined. That is, if anyone had the patience to draw on that blood shot exhaustion. If it was exhaustion, that was. They were the broken ones, she mused, all jagged edges and damaged parts thrown out in favour of newer, shiny toys. The cycle was endless.

“Panda bear.” She murmured, reaching out to smooth his crow’s nest. It looked ridiculous; half way between promotions, and he looked more like a snow leopard than ever, what with the patchy black and white of the peroxide and roots. They’d have to get that sorted eventually; something else she would have to consider. Somewhere along the lines, when competition became more important than comradery, she had taken over the role of the China line leader-come-mother figure. She would use it as proof that she would make a terrible mother, despite the rumblings of want and longing within her. She couldn’t help but smiled as he tilted back into her hand, he played up to this cat like projection better than ever. Why he insisted on being a bear still confused her, though any attempts to rename him a cat would be met with instant disapproval and endless whining. Tao was, at the end of the day, still a child. Maybe not legally, but he was their baby; he was doted on by anyone too closely linked with the Chinese idols. He was theirs and they all adored him, quietly dreading the day that someone younger came along to take his place.

Taking the lit cigarette from his own lips, he offered it over to be met with a sigh from above them both. Some people among them still looked down on smoking, though for the most part none of them really cared enough to fight it anymore. What was one more controversy? What was a few more months’ reflection? Why be scared of another scandal? Their images were beyond repair as it was; they had nothing left, all the company had to do was refuse to sign their next contract and make them out to be the traitors. It was how it worked, though those lucky enough to not experience it would deny so until blue in the face.

With an eye roll, Amber took it from him, drifting back to the first time she had found herself in a somewhat similar position. It had happened countless times since. These misfits needed someone, and so they leaned on each other. She had been the one with someone’s head in her lap, carding through their hair as they wept. She had been their pillow on nights when they couldn’t stand to sleep alone for the terror. They had all risked prison for one another to make sure someone got what they needed. She’d taken the abuse and assaults of bad days and worse trips. Some were willing to abandon comradery to get ahead, but no-one in the room could be counted among that number.

The first time…it was the night this engagement had been announced, right? It sounded right, though there may well have been incarnations past without her realising it. But this, right now, this vaguely stable network of lost souls, the first time had to be the night of the engagement, right? It was so badly timed, to not give them enough tie to grieve was heartless. To think, just days after…

No-one realised just how much they had needed Zhoumi until he was gone.

She had thought her disguise was incredible, and for a while it was good enough. Everyone bought the Eunjung line: apparently the name was useful for something other a few weeks on one show. They found her in a back alley bar with shitty drinks and an even shittier clientele. Tao had been the one to find her: Tao and Chanyeol. Their…discussion hadn’t gone too well, and their attempts to take her away were repaid with a black eye and scratches on whichever expanse of skin she could get a purchase on. She was dropped from her MC spot and removed from group CFs in the way of reflection, though punishing her just wasn’t enough as f(x) had their comeback pushed back month after month until it collided, and was drowned out by other groups. Like they stood a chance in hell when it dropped in the end.

Tao and Chanyeol, at least, didn’t blame her for her actions. Tao, if anything, admitted he would have hit her back had they not been in public and she had been any less drunk. After all, how would it look if a male idol punched a female idol, especially a drunk one? It would be edited to make them look like the bad guys, or Amber unstable. Truthfully, she was unstable, but there wasn’t much they could do to hide it at that point. He knew where her pain came from; he understood, and he accepted it. His validation alone had been enough to break her. She spent that night in a hotel room, wedged between two giants, where she felt safe. It became an increasingly common habit; if it wasn’t one of those two, it was Heechul, or Sunny, or Jinki or…anyone. Anyone desperately lonely. It was platonic, not that anyone outside of their…network understood that. They had both heard the whispers among the company; Amber and Sunny, the whores sleeping with anyone that would show an interest. There had been moves to protect them, but how could you protect people from their own teams? 

“You should have quit running away years ago, little Llama.” His voice was always that bit…nicer to listen to when he was like this; it was a touch more sandy, a little less whiny and a hint deeper. It was like he’d had a sore throat or a week or something; that was the only comparison anyone could come up with. It was comforting though, there was no denying that. His comment was oddly placed; she wasn’t entirely sure what she was running from any more. None of them were. They had their personal theories about each other, though they mostly went unspoken. Besides, they were idols: they sang and danced around a stage for a living, they hadn’t gone to university to earn degrees that allowed them to have theories. They didn’t really understand how everything worked, but guessing worked for them.

Passing the cigarette back to him, her eyes drifted, locking on to figures stood by the balcony’s edge, watching the scene unfolding below. The music had stopped, and voices could be heard, though too indistinct to pick out what was being said. Speeches time: joy. As a part of the bridal and grooms parties, there were a number of them tucked away who should have been down there. Sunny and Amber would have to deal with Jessica at another time. Kris…Kris would brush off Tao and Chanyeol’s absence. They were almost certain he knew, but why risk exposing people on an almost? Even if he knew, did he understand why?

Tao moved, Amber’s hand falling from his head to dangle, out stretched, in front of her as she stared dumbly at the newly empty space in front of her. Maybe her arm bouncing on the edge of the seat should have hurt more, but yet…maybe she’d had too much to drink. There was no almost certainty in Tao’s actions though; he was off on the hunt. He would deny all these big cat claims until he was blue in the face, but the way he moved when he was stalking his latest prey…he was undeniably feline. He stumbled a little at the door, music swelling and invading the space as the door swung open and closed behind him. It was no secret Sehun was a near constant whore, and Tao was more than a little easy after one too many. 

They clung to each other in the belief that being obvious would hide the truth from fans and they would merely brush it off as fan service. Those fanfictions (sue her, she was curious) were so wrong it was laughable though. Like Tao would ever let anyone control him, like any of them were interested in hearing “I love you” or the romance. Playing games didn’t come in to it. Life was short, why waste it waiting on an impossible dream? No…those two liked to keep it quick and as uncomplicated as possible; a quick fumble in a locked meeting room, teasing hands under blankets in planes, breathing on those exact spots and finding reasons to end up in the toilets alone for just long enough to satisfy an itch. They’d been caught by one too many of their label mates in a few too many compromising positions over the years. Like that time a certain member of Super Junior walked in on the end of their practice session. Siwon had looked like he’d just seen someone run over his pet bunny when he stumbled across Tao pinning Sehun to the mirrors of the room. It was fair to say the moves they were practicing did not appear in their choreography and he was almost certainly traumatised by the event.

Maybe she did know what he meant though. Disconnecting herself from the present; it was what she needed to do, what she had been trying to do before…before she had been overwhelmed. That was really the only way she could describe it, right? That…severing from reality, no matter how brief, provided some of the most wonderful insights. And some of the most terrifying alternatives. As an outsider looking in, she was pining for a man she couldn’t have, one she didn’t deserve. She wasn’t right for him, she wasn’t his intended, and she never would be.

 

Sniffing, she turned on to her back, staring at the ceiling above her. At some point, she had lost the lap she had been using her a pillow, though someone’s hand remained, running through her hair. It was comforting, anchoring, to have that near constant physical contact. She craved touch, craved to feel like she was still there; like she still existed, still mattered. Years…five years, to be exact. It had been five years since the world found out that Krissica was actually a thing. Honestly, she thought it was a dumb name, but that was neither her or there. That theirs were not the delusional fans. Jessica Jung and Kris Wu…the perfect match, right? The darlings of the company ever since, Amber had tried to be happy for them. She had tried to be nice about it. Hell, she had even agreed to be part of the bridal party because he had asked her with that oh so innocent tone of voice. But it was so hard. It broke her heart, every time she had to sit and listen about how good they looked together, how well matched their personalities were, how much their in laws loved their families…every time he smiled like that for her and every time she cooed about how wonderful it was going to be and how soon it was. How happy she was, how happy he was and how much she knew he loved her.

But some part of her still wanted to be selfish and come between them.

She would crave solitude in the weeks to come. There had been a time when Amber had been perfectly happy to spend endless hours, days even, surrounded by hordes of people. She had thrived on the noise and the sense of living it provided. And yet, now more than an hour or two seemed all too exhausting for her. People were intimidating; concerts would see her missing from wrap parties, she would conveniently take an exceptionally long phone call half way through an awards ceremony, she had become an expert at one shot scenes for music videos and had taken to refusing variety shows. Netizens had started to accuse her of having…what did they call it again, celebrity disease? Maybe they were right, maybe she had simply got too big for her own boots. Maybe she did need to…tough it out. Yet, the last time she had tried that…technically the last time was that night, right? She knew she should have gone much earlier. She knew it was too much, and yet she stayed. It wouldn’t be worth the endless looks and comments she would get, especially as she had the bridal party the day after. There was no point running and hiding any more. Still, it wasn’t like their darling CEO had given any of them that option; tonight she would not be able to leave when she wanted, nor would it be the night after, possibly not even the night after that if their schedules were still conveniently clear. After all, when two darlings of favoured groups were headed into wedded bliss, of course they all deserved a few days to celebrate. If the news outlets were willing to pay to get in to the event, all the better for the company. It brought the company a better image, money and time away from schedules so many of their talents had been asking for. 

These reminders, they were agonising. Reminders of what could have been, if only…but the world was full of what ifs. Why were hers any different, what made her so special. It was presumptuous of her to assume that anyone else in this safe space didn’t understand. She was juvenile, really. Maybe the hordes of netizens were right; she earned how much, and yet still dared to find difficulties in her life? She chose this; she chose to be around these people, chose to remain when she should have, and could have, left the company already. She accepted Jessica’s offer (though, mostly because it came from Kris) when she didn’t have to. She chose to be around them, to experience this heartbreak every day.

She could have left well enough alone, but it was like with a wobbly tooth. It hurt when she pressed it too hard, the sensation as bitter as blood from the wound. It was ragged, painful, and much harder to remove than people were willing to admit. She wasn’t a child anymore; she couldn’t just…rip it out and be done, waiting for the tooth fairy to pay her and let a new tooth take its place. If it came out this time, the raw stump would take longer, never fill in again, not by itself at least.

From tomorrow, her K.Li would be gone, and she was scared; scared the stump would never heal, that filling the gap with something false would only cause it to fester. 

Ah, tomorrow though, with its grand whole day affair. One that called for bridal parties, wedding breakfasts, banquet halls and a second reception. Nothing less would do for the darlings, would it now? The person beneath her – the one whose lap she had acquired – moved, placing her head down on the seat, folding her still limp arm in underneath her head. She would be forced into dresses again, though being kept in the same room as who knew how many other people for hours on end sounded worse. Having to smile the whole way, laugh with those she knew laughed at her. Play nice with those who would gladly sabotage her to get a leg up the next day, join in with the staged virginal embarrassment of those only too willing to go to bed with directors and sponsors. Their world was ruinous, vitriolic even, and needed to…stop. Its shadow needed to stop growing, to stop creeping over all that was good and innocent. It choked the life out of all it touched, tainting it with some unspeakable evil that remained invisible to all until it had its claws sunk in, deep.

How was she to endure a whole day of it?

She felt her eyes droop, drawing themselves together. This was happening far too often, she was sure of it; she did so little, and yet was so tired so often. Talking, or even so much as listening, required too much time, too much effort. It was like a fog, one where she just…couldn’t find the words. She knew they were there, she had said them a thousand times before, and she would say them a thousand times again. Yet, at the same time, finding them was…it was confusing. Maybe it was easier to stop fighting, maybe she just needed to…go. Her body was demanding it, right? She needed to sleep. She didn’t need the world to jolt itself back into focus, she didn’t need another person to enter the room, dipping the seat next to her as they sat down. She could smell something all too familiar, all too much like him. You couldn’t mistake Kris’s presence for anyone else, it was impossible. He was too big, too solid, too…Kris to be anyone else. She was not going to look up though, no matter how much she wanted to. 

“Panda said I’d find you up here,” his tone was clearer, obviously he wasn’t half as drunk as most other people inside this evening. The room felt tense though; so many people were still working on forgiving him, them, for a tirade of perceived misdeeds. He spoke softly, as if he was scared of breaking whatever was in the air, almost too softly though. Had this been anywhere else, his voice would have been lost to the world around them; the one that closed in, and opened out, breathed and lived more than any of them. A hand brushed her hair out of her eyes, quickly retreating almost as soon as it appeared. She fought the urge to follow it, desperate to hold on to his warmth for just a little longer. She may have burned down there, but here she shivered. It was selfish of her; to still hope, wish, and cling onto a dream long since dashed. Those knowing smiles and prettily phrased remarks from many of the other women involved in the wedding reminded her how selfish she was, how hopeless and vain it all was. She knew after tomorrow, all those hugs and basketball games, skating and dancing for the hell of it…it was off the menu. It wouldn’t be appropriate; he’d be someone else’s Kris after all. “He said you looked upset. I thought maybe…” 

She wanted to scoff, to rise and leave the room altogether. Of course…it wasn’t because he wanted to; it was never because he had to. It was always because it was his duty as a leader: a responsibility no-one had asked him to take on after their gentleman… 

Now was not the time to lose herself though: she was furious with him, which was where she needed to be. She was drunk, not incapable! She wasn’t sick and she wasn’t helpless. At the end of the day, she was drunk, nothing else. She wasn’t incapable, she really wasn’t. Why did he still feel the need to care, to play the martyr when it came to her? Why did he…keep this up? He had abandoned them – all of them – for his precious Jessica. He had made his choice with his timing and his bride: he celebrated when they mourned. He went to Canada and California when they made their journey to China. Those below would never see it, but Kris…he was the real traitor among them. He had no place in this world. He didn’t belong among these fragmented mirrors, the faded pictures. They were as deceitful and traitorous as he was; but at least their treachery wasn’t in the name of self-gain. At least their treachery served others, protected others. 

He seemed to study her for a moment, gaze boring into the side of her head, before sighing and running a hand through his hair. She could feel the scowl on her face, she knew she read angry; would he assume Tao was the cause of her fury? God, she could only hope not; there were scarce few individuals who knew how best to placate her, and Zitao was most certainly among those elite number. 

“Amber…did ‘Yeol give you anything?” Concern laced his voice as he stared at the lights, almost unable to look at her, though in the state she was it sounded far more like judgement. Whist no, it would come as no surprise, at the same time she could hear the reaction in the room; feel it even. Indignation, contempt for his accusations. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a movement: Yixing. He had stood, drawn Kris’s attention for just a moment: if she had looked angry, he looked…incensed, maybe? Was that the word she was looking for? Honestly, she wasn’t sure any more. It well could have been, but it could just have easily been very wrong as well. A hand on his shoulder pushed him back down into his seat; Jinki and he were past needing to exchange words. 

So what if she had gone to Chanyeol? So what if he had acquiesced? It wouldn’t be the first time and she doubted it would be the last. Besides, it wasn’t like she was the only one, was it? His precious fiancée and future sister in law were some of the worst for it among the company, present and previous considered. The Jung sisters were ice queens for a reason; they were constantly spacing out on god knows what, just to give them enough of a boost to get them through the day. They worked hard, she would give them that, but if they didn’t get their fix? They were worse than useless, and yet…they were the first to cast judgement on her. The first to condemn her choices and her actions for which she bore the brunt of the consequences. As for Chanyeol…dear, sweet Chanyeol. Everyone went to him and his magical box of pills and tricks. He was known, loved even, for what he could provide to those he wished to bless with freedom, even if only temporary. He was no stranger to the content: a good salesman knew his product intimately, and Chanyeol was most certainly among the best Amber had met.

They all had an image to maintain, they all needed to dabble, though some would rather burn themselves out first than admit they were struggling. Snorting at him, she closed her eyes again, turning her head away, sniffing a little. She was not going to give in to that wall of emotion she had pushed so far back over the years. She was in control of it, not the other way around. He was not going to break her.

She could feel them; all the eyes from the shadows, figures barely seen in the murky half world, observing with a cold curiosity, poised and ready to strike down this…intruder if the need arose. It was funny in a way; exo had been the one with the wolf concept, and yet they were the most divided, the least pack like, of all the groups. Well, no, that wasn’t quite right: f(x) very much took that crown these days, though it was the only crown they could claim. “This is still hard on you, isn’t it?” It was barely a question: since when was he so certain that he knew her so intimately? Maybe once he would have been right, maybe once they had been as connected as two souls could be without that…physical consummation. They had drifted though, and now his veiled statements were guesswork, almost always at least a little inaccurate. “Do you still miss him that much?” He asked, his voice oh so gentle and painfully understanding. 

Really? Was he really going to ask her that? The sting of this betrayal, of the chasm in their relationship was rarely this keenly felt. It hurt, physically as much as emotionally, though the tightening grip around her waist did nothing to distract her from it. She didn’t want to cry, not ever again, especially not in front of him. It had been so long, and yet it would appear he was the greatest of fools, blind to the realities of those he referred to as his best friends. Why did Kris still, after all these years, think Julian was the only one she had ever loved? Did he really think that she hadn’t started to move on? Yes, she had adored him and yes, part of her was always going to miss him. He had taken part of her to the cold, hard ground with him. He would always hold part of her heart, no matter how much time passed. Hell, there was a time, back when she was still an innocent of the world, when she had been utterly convinced they were soul mates, or something equally asinine and childish. Soulmates; who believed in those anymore?

When she found out that he hadn’t recovered and there would be no more Julian when she got back, she had broken. She had broken, though not in the way this had broken her. It was easier to remove the reminders of Julian than it was Jessica and Kris. It was easy to pack away pictures, move files to storage devices, file away sheet after sheet of notes and music and letters. Even in the modern age, they had still sent letters. It was immature, they both knew it, but they still had. She had thrown herself into work, into practice and into study. They had made a promise at one point: Julian, Henry and herself. They had sworn to stand on the highest stage possible, to outdo each other in every field, to be the best versions of themselves they could be. Only, with Julian gone, she had felt that she needed to go beyond herself, to make sure he still got to stand with them, with her, even if only as a ghost in the back of her mind.

Yes, she still missed him. Yes, she would always miss him. But no, this was not about Julian. 

There was a rustle of fabric, the space besides her emptying faster than it had filled, and the bang of a door. Someone had clearly taken offense (and action) on her behalf. Arms looped under hers, dragging her up into the waiting crook of a shoulder and hands scraped her hair out of her face. Maybe if she was sober, she would be able to figure out just who it was that had taken her into their embrace, placing butterfly kisses on her forehead. The only problem was, Amber and sober didn’t go together all that often all that often these days. 

Somewhere above her, there was a murmur about taking her back to the hotel (though really, she needed her home with her bed) and a promise not to let her drink any more than she had already. She couldn’t help but wrinkle hr nose; she hadn’t had that much to drink tonight, had she? One more wasn’t going to kill her, was it? She knew they all thought she was drinking too much, always a little too glassy eyed and docile, always a little too well behaved and quiet on set. Hallmarks of classic drunk Amber; at least the stylists piled on enough make up to smother the faint glow she would always carry. They all knew the fans thought it was down to her period of reflection, or maybe it was down to her inevitable withdrawal if you listened to the colder netizens. They all knew the company would rather encourage the rumours than admit the awful truth.

Amber had a problem, and not one that could be solved with two or three weeks of reflection.

If Amber could stay sober for a full week, she would be filing to have her contract cancelled, just like others before her. No, it wouldn’t help those who remained; everyone was waiting for the next traitorous Chinese roach to make their move. They only had to so much as breathe wrong in the current environment and they were magically seen coming out of a solicitors the next day.

Although, if Amber was to stay sober for a full week, her temper would be so foul, SM would be seeking to cancel her contract. It wasn’t just Kris that had her here. They all knew she was horrifically homesick, especially after her grandfather fell ill: she adored the older man, as he did her. To deny her what would possibly her last chance to see him was…severe. They knew she resented that, unlike the vast majority of her label mates, she didn’t have that piece of paper to say she had finished formal education. Sure, she’d had tutors and it was really nothing but a formality, but it just wasn’t the same: it mattered to netizens, and what sort of idol didn’t graduate these days? She resented being pushed to the back of everything – reviews, photoshoots, opportunities - and having to retain the same image that she’d had at fifteen. Given the choice, yes she would possibly be very happy to retain it, but it was that she has never presented with the opportunity. Most other people had gotten to grow up at least a little over a decade. She resented being friend zoned by every living person in South Korea; was she not just as pretty as other female idols? Couldn’t she relate to conversations about sport? Wasn’t she good enough? She resented still being referred to as Amber oppa; how hard was it to understand that girls weren’t oppa? How many times did she have to reiterate that she was a girl? They had lost count of the number of times she’d snapped at Sulli for calling her hyung. The poor girl barely spoke to her now for fear of being scolded again. She hated being seen as a mumbling idiot when she could quite easily hold a conversation if she wanted to. 

She resented…so many things. Her relationships were growing toxic, even within this safe space. There were few boundaries she had left to cross, few people whose trust she was still to break. Hell, she was sure she was even growing to hate those who still chose to forgive and love her. What had she done to deserve their compassion, their time, their energy?

Some would call it stress, others would call it borderline alcoholism, but the people who mattered – not to her, but to the company – would insist it meant more reflection time was in order. Any reason to put her back on reflection time was enough of a reason these days. 

It was highly likely that everyone knew she didn’t have the control she used to. She wasn’t too good at hiding the high and lows, though it wasn’t like she really put the effort in to it any more. She had at the start; strained smiles and laughter that just didn’t quite reach her eyes. Editing was enough to hide the little things. The problem is, little things tended to grow in to bigger things; not eating right, not leaving the house, not bothering with her appearance in the slightest, going days at a time without sleeping. Symptoms and signs of a disease rotting her from the inside out. And now? Well…now she was a mess and everyone knew it. Almost everyone at least, if the happy couple’s blissful ‘ignorance’ was anything to go off.

There were arms underneath her arms again; they tried to make her stand, tried to make her walk but…she buckled. One moment the world was real and solid beneath her, and the next it hit her like a tonne of bricks. In that second, fear constricted in her throat: why couldn’t she stand? Why did it feel like someone had ripped the bones from her legs? It…hurt. It hurt like hell to try and push against the floor. This, it wasn’t right. No matter how far gone she was, no matter what she had always been able to stumble on her own, even if she needed an arm around her waist. She’d always maintained at least some pride in her walks of shame. And yet, here and now, she was worse than a toddler. At least a toddler could stand on their own. A whine slipped from her lips as arms found their way under her legs and ribs once again. Why…why did it feel like it was cutting into her? Hands curled weakly into a shirt, burying her head into their shoulder. Even the stitching and edges felt too sharp. 

There was a jacket over her, muffling at least a little of the noise. It still beat too hard against her, still struck too deep into her bones. How had this been enjoyable? The heat was blistering, burning up underneath her skin, as she and her carrier sweated against one another. Her grip slid from their shirt and her head lolled back: when had she lost control of her own limbs? She saw, though without really seeing, the world she had been dragged from. It felt like no time at all, yet fewer and fewer faces were familiar. Where had they gone, her fallen ones? Where had the faithful been snatched away too?

These strange wild eyes watching her; they were all predators, though these were not predators that saw her as one of them. The predators down here, they sought destruction and corruption of any they did not recognise. Here Amber was easy game, curious eyes followed her, and malicious smiles disappeared behind glasses, melted into shadows in exchange for knowing smirks in new lights. Gentle hands guided her back into place: head tucked into a neck, arms around shoulders, and hidden away again beneath the suffocating cover.

She could hear them: familiar whispered voices among the screaming reverberations, too quiet to pick out but too loud for her not to notice. These voices, this murmurs, were not friendly ones, not anymore. This place burned, and they with it. These were the deviants that sought to drag them all down; those romantics in the clouds had descended from their peaceful world to guide her through the bedlam, to keep her from the reaching claws of those deviants who would seek to keep her pinned in their world a little while longer. 

Cold air struck her legs, a shiver running its way up her spine. Whoever had taken her bones clearly hadn’t managed to take her nerves at the same time. If she could feel, there was hope for tomorrow. Maybe by then they would have regrown. Maybe by then she would be able to stand. The cries of vultures filled the air and the click of cameras – their weapon of choice – joined in the cacophony that even the jacket couldn’t protect her from. Their noise was different. It didn’t ring in her ears, dampening the world around her. No, rather it pierced her head and her heart like a thousand tiny needles; an army of tiny birds, pecking away at her until there was nothing left.

Would she pay for this too? Would the queen punish her for acting like a child?


	2. Imagination is the only weapon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for: Alcoholism, drug usage, physical violence. I guess workplace bullying? I mean, it's more hinted at/only briefly mentioned, but it's there and that stuff sucks really bad.

If you asked Amber who had been with her, she couldn’t tell you. All she knew is either side of her was warmth and a sense of solidness. The bodies were real, they were grounding. There was an arm around her shoulders, holding her close to them, keeping her from slipping away with each jerk and bump in the road. She was in a taxi, she was aware of that much. She could see herself in their mirror, and they could see her; hair matted and sweaty, makeup smeared and clothing all askew. Maybe he would sell her out, sell them all out, for a pretty penny and give away the hotel. Give away the only safe place any of them had to hide away from the ugly truth of just how depraved they could be. Though they were safe within the high walls with the mob kept at bay by skilled guards, secrets still had a habit of slipping out when the trickle of bodies began to leave. Hands seeking one another, slipping down shirts, pulling at hair. Their passion would be their undoing, and there was always someone waiting for them to fall.

Dorms, obviously, were too fractured and too far away for tomorrow’s coronation. The queen insisted on it, and royalty always got their own way.

No, she was certain of it now, those glances would end in some sort of media shit storm; she would already be facing one for her boneless legs and graceless early exit. Amber Liu of f(x) fame (or was it more infamy these days?) left the party early (which was unusual for her, in all honesty) and had to be carried out by…by just who exactly? Who was big enough, strong enough and sober enough to carry her? She hadn’t been paying enough attention to that, but whoever it had been was still guarding her, still holding her head in the crook of her neck, oversized hands and limbs keeping her limp body upright. She’d have to thank them somehow at some point soon. It would be a scandal for them too; her hopes lay in someone less active than herself. Someone who wouldn’t suffer too greatly for her incompetence.

It seemed like she would have to reflect again, or that was if she was ever off reflection. Most likely the company would not seek to renew her contract when the time came, and she would return home to disgrace her parents more than she already had. She was lucky to get the first week of a comeback. She knew people were calling for her to leave the group, claiming that the other girls were suffering for having someone as problematic as her still attached to them. How many opportunities had she cost the group? How many individuals’ chances had been passed over them for another group with a less sullied reputation? How many more times was she going to deny them the opportunity to progress by still sticking around?

The world pitched again, invaded by a too sweet smell; foreign to the musk and sweat that had been so definably masculine. This new scent…it was floral, delicate even, yet a hint of something else…something almost spicy. It was a scent she knew all too well. It was a source of comfort, she wouldn’t lie. It was enveloping, almost overpowering. In its presence the world outside seemed so small, so meaningless. It was a source of amusement among those who knew her in this state, to see how she would turn into such a small child around the wearer’s scent. It was another source of amusement as to how she would describe it and the effect it had on her, especially when considering just how petite the other person was. Petite, but powerful. There were few as willing to speak their mind as Sunny was; she and Heechul were often considered he spokespeople of their tiny union of castaways and lost souls. 

There was this image she had; one of effervescence and indecision; jumping from from one project to another, abandoning things when they became too tough or too time consuming. There were many in the public realms who would liken her to a distracted child. There was no smoke without fire; she would drop projects, but not because of the levels of exertion they would demand. Rather, she would abandon that which demanded too much time. Her priority, in her own words, was keeping as many of their lost boys and Wendy darlings with them as they could. Captain Hook had taken one soul too many to his pirate ship. Her priority was to be there for as long as she was needed by those who needed her most. To be there for those who hadn’t succeeded in this new, brutal regime. To hold tight to those who moved worlds away from what they knew on a sliver of hope. To try and save a single life.

This side of her was rarely seen by the public, by those who were determined to see nothing other than the set images they had of people. Their veneers ran thin and patchy; a hand in hers during her rare promotions, walking out with those who were cursed at during concerts, and other instances were seen but rarely acknowledged. Why would an eternal child spend so much time and effort on these lost causes, after all? How the older hadn’t grown tired of her was a mystery to Amber, but she was grateful for this rarely seen side. She would possibly forever be grateful for Sunny’s virtuous tendencies: for her patience and understanding. For the forgiveness and acceptance others could not or would not display. For holding her when she craved touch, for sitting when rage would descend and waiting for the inevitable hysterics that would follow.

Amber was guided, ever so lightly, into allowing herself to be cradled. A small hand carded hair out of her eyes, wiped drying sweat from her forehead and a second set of hands fixed her seat-belt, covered her legs and shoulders with that too large jacket. Whoever she was with, there would never be any way she could possibly begin to repay all their care and efforts to protect her. Their efforts were all wasted at any rate, though some part of her argued that they already knew that. That there was nothing in this for them, and yet…and yet, they were still here. Whoever they were, that was. Maybe they had finally both lost their minds at last, there was no other logical explanation, she was sure of it. It earned a huff, almost laughter, as she turned her face deeper into the crook of Sunny’s neck. 

It was always in this place; this safe, warm place that she found herself drifting. It didn’t have to be Sunny, nor did it have to be Heechul, or Chanyeol…it was certainly almost never Henry these days. There had been a time, but they had drifted too far, severed one too many ties. No, she merely had to trust them implicitly, and they had to know how to read her. There were times when she missed him, times when she missed the relationship they had had, but circumstances and their individual choices had driven a wedge between them. 

Paranoia overpowered exhaustion and instead of sleeping, as she was sure her companion had been trying to encourage, she found herself gazing out of a window as lights flashed past and scraps of conversations and other noises slipped in through a cracked open window. Snippets of songs, shouting as arguments broke out, obnoxious laughter of drunk women in too short dresses…all typical night life sounds, but all far too loud and much too invasive for any one person to block out, despite efforts to coo Amber into response. Even the usual shifting, the push and pull of moving her to another body, did little. The world merely pitched again and a low whine slipped from her throat. A hushing came from the other woman, and a low hum – one of concern, one she knew too well – was emitted by the other. A concerned rumble in their chest was met by her breathy sigh. It was a pleasant sensation, something she figured they understood if their chuckle was anything to go off. There were low tones, an exchange she couldn’t, would not, focus on. A kiss to her forehead was enough to have her eyes flutter close. The steady drumbeat of a heart beneath her, the warmth of a body so much larger than hers…these were the things she needed, even if she hadn’t known it. Even if she didn’t know how to admit to it. She didn’t want to break this spell, she didn’t want to move again. Amber let the two of them continue to murmur away between themselves as she snaked an arm around whoever’s waist she was clinging to and a second hand was carded through her hair in that one night. It was larger than Sunny’s hand had been, calloused from years of hard work, and far more commanding in its press against a chest. She couldn’t help but chuckle; even if she wanted to, where would she move to? She was comfortable, calmer and cooler than she had been all night. She could have almost gone to sleep like this, truth be told, but the jerk of the vehicle pulled her from her reverie. 

The creak of the doors and rapid discussion with the driver was done for her sake, as were the arms encasing her once again; lifting her from seats and swaying her along with their gait. She wanted to look up so badly, to know to whom she was further indebted, but they moved too fast, left her limp and weak as a kitten. She was left with them holding her in the foyer. Now more aware, she could feel people staring and she tugged on her self-imposed white knight’s shirt. She wanted – needed ¬– to be put down, to stand on her own two feet. The cold glare she was met with was enough to have her retract her hand, as if she had been burned. His stare had always been freezing; her precious dongsaeng was no baby anymore. His glare was turned back to those who stared, the sound of feet shuffling past increased as those who would turn her into a spectacle cleared the hotel foyer, a soft voice breaking to her world of growing fear.

“Quit glaring at them, you big baby. I’ve got her room pass.”

It earned a sigh from him, and a chuckle from the other woman. No doubt he had rolled his eyes at her chastisement. This was one of the many reasons she liked her company. She had time and humour enough for everyone. As for many of the others around her? They were always…how had Krystal put it again? Oh, that was it. They were ‘too busy trying to hold things together to deal with anyone else’s shit’. Maybe she could believe it, if only they weren’t so busy plotting and scheming their next rival’s downfall. The entire company had become a bad drama plot. Truth be told, they were too busy trying to climb over each other to get the next MC spot, the next modelling contract, the next acting gig…anything to make them look good. So few of them were above dirty tricks these days; meeting with photographers, selling out budding relationships, spiking food and alcohol…it was sickening to know where they were. To compare them to where they had been. 

They weren’t trying to hold things together, only Luna had tried and only Luna could be believed if she were to try and convince Amber of it. Precious Goddess Victoria was too busy with ensuring a future in China to care about when the next Korean promotion was; she got work, who else would blame her though? Sulli had always been exhausting and oh so needy, or off pushing her own agenda. Her own popularity. To have the youngest remove herself from Amber’s life was a saddening relief.

And then there was Krystal.

Once she had jokingly referred to their relationship as a princess and servant. These days she felt more like the beggar whom all royalty would turn way from. The one who’s stench was such an offence that they were to be passed by immediately. Krystal was too busy supporting her future family in their plans and Amber had, according to her ladyship, become a spoiled child who couldn’t get the toy they wanted. 

Luna…she had tried at first. God knew she had tried, but when she was the only one trying, it came as no surprise when she finally gave in to the pressure and let the cracks be known. Luna was possibly the only one Amber could not bring herself to resent for their absence in her life. She could still remember that conversation actually…

________________________________________

_There was a knock on the door; it was soft, hesitant, much like the voice that followed it. “Unnie? Are you awake? I brought breakfast…Vic-unnie left something in the fridge just before she left. There isn’t much left though…Sica-unnie and Krystal-ah were here last night.” Of course they had been in the night before; who else would have been there to pass judgement on her drunken ass hauling herself in the door in the early hours? She was sure part of their judgement was over her coming back early enough for them to still be awake._

_The voice could only belong to one person though. Only one person gave enough of a damn to check on her. The sound of slippered feet on carpet should not have made her blood boil as it did. She stopped by the door, eyes most likely settling on the mound of blankets on the bed. Where else would the sole inhabitant be? It remained pretty quiet for a few moments, but she could still hear them breathing near the door. Giving up, she sat up and kicked the blankets off, making space for the other girl, who promptly deposited herself on the bed, offering her lap for Amber to lay back down in._

_“I saw them on the way in, I know.”_

_The smell of food turned her stomach but she knew she had to eat something, if not right away hen at least before the younger girl left for the day. Luna would notice, Luna would worry. Luna would ask questions and probe deeper, rather than accept Amber’s snap response. She was almost certain no one else would though. It wasn’t in her to make the younger girl worry. Any of the others she knew really wouldn't care less at that exact moment in time._

_“Unnie…” A grimace crossed her face; Amber knew that tone. It was hesitant, apologetic. Cautious. She’d heard it just over a year ago from Victoria before she left for a longer term visit to China. She knew what was coming. That uncertain quiver, questioning without questioning. God, she hated it. It didn't come very often, but when it did...it was never any good for her. It normally meant something was coming that wasn't going to be very pleasant._

_“I know something is on your mind. Go on.” She sighed, resignation in her voice. She should have known this was coming, it had from so many of the others, even if not in so many words and not so direct an approach to address the elephant in the room. Was Luna going to give up too? She would have to applaud her for hanging in there so long if that was the case, though maybe not in the poor girl’s presence._

_“Unnie, I love you, you know that right?” Her tone was looking for conformation, for comforting…Amber knew exactly was coming as fingers brushed over hers, taking a hand as a head came to rest on her shoulder. God, she knew it. She didn't doubt for once second Luna held nothing but love in her heart for all people and things, but everyone had their limits, and it made her heart sink that little bit further._

_“Yeah, I know Luna. But I’m hard work, right?” She snorted, like anyone else needed to tell her that. Even as the other girl started to shake her head in denial, Amber was ready to accept the universal truth. Amber Liu was problematic and difficult. “You’re not the first to say it and I don’t think you’ll be the last.” It was true; most of the time in the past it had been a joking tone, but now? Now people used it as a reason to part ways with her in private. She had become just too much for them to be dealing with. They didn’t have time to babysit her; maybe that phrasing stuck out so much because it came from Henry in their last argument. Six months; it had been six months and he still refused to acknowledge her, even backstage or passing in the street._

_“It’s not just you though. It’s everyone.” There was a break in her voice, a sorrow that worried away at the edges, fraying at the confidence she would have had to muster for this one conversation. “You haven’t been around much, but I feel like everyone is drifting and I have tried, but it’s like no-one is interested any more. I want to make this work, but I can’t do it on my own. I want to help, I want us to all be happy again, like we were at the start.” Poor, sweet, innocent Luna. She couldn’t help smiling as hope and determination crept in to the others tone. At least one of the five was still able to dream positively. At least the last shred of hope hadn't died. The day Luna stopped caring - stopped trying - would be a sad day indeed._

_“I know you tried. Keep smiling puppy, keep working hard. Things will fix themselves eventually; let them be broken for a little bit. We’ll come back together one day.” One day, most likely to announce their disbandment, though she didn’t have the heart to break the illusion of hope the younger one still held on to._

_“Now…I heard someone has a musical to audition for. Go on, before manager oppa gets upset.” She smiled for the younger girl and sat up as they left, a little light returning to their eyes and a spring creeping back into their step. If she could hold out hope, then maybe they could manage to be civil on that last day._

________________________________________

She had given up that day…Luna threw herself in to her stage career, rehearsals and extra dance practices. Any excuse to stay out of the dorm became a good one. Amber knew it was out of hurt to start with, but then with such early dedication, it became because she had no other choice. She flourished as a musical actress. People began to take her seriously for her talent, and the foul comments about her appearance were drowned out by awards and applause. Her pain lessened in time, and there was no resentment toward the younger girl.

There were times when Amber gave up on herself. She would disregard her body’s demands for food, for sleep. She would forego proper attire for the season. She could go days without showering, which was probably everyone’s least favourite negligence on her behalf. She knew it was nothing to be proud of, yet there were days when she couldn’t muster the energy to leave her bed. Days when her legs would buckle or the dizziness would take over. Days when her stomach would protest whether she ate or not; screaming at her for not consuming anything, but rejecting anything solid she tried to swallow down. For years her body had been at war with itself. For months she had ignored the worsening state of her health, the ever increasing confusion and fogginess she felt. Her clothes no longer fit as they should have. Her hair was limp, falling out most days. Her nails tore and splintered off under the slightest duress.

And so she drank to forget the disturbance it brought to her. She sought nirvana when she was caught in hell’s path. 

She was set on a bed, hands clinging to the shirt of her saviour; and they complied. Rather than untangling her and leaving, they huffed and settled next to her. There was a light snicker from the other side of the room as a door opened and the sound of running water soon followed. She murmured a protest as they moved, only for them to tut at her fumbling hands. The bed dipped and creaked as they sat up, only to return to her grasp moments later, waistcoat and bowtie firmly cast to one side. There was a hand on her head again, drawing her in and holding her. There was nothing but comfort in this action; comfort and protection. 

She let her eyes drift shut, mind wandering back to the many times she had found herself lay on a hotel bed with someone else taking care of basics for her, merely because she was too inebriated to care for herself. Times when she had insisted on crawling the last few steps, clung to walls to stay on her feet. Rarely did she have to be carried. Often she had to be helped out of clothes, unable to handle the complexities of zippers, buttons or laces. Who was the last one…had it been Min and Kwonnie? No, she was almost certain it had been Chanyeol and Tao. Hadn’t they been the first ones too? She was sure of it. Sighing, she closed her eyes snaked her arms around the other’s waist, pulling herself tighter to their heat, with the sound of water in the background lulling her in to a comfortable, semi-awake state.

________________________________________

_The door shut and she was deposited on the bed, unable to stand – much less walk – in her current state, by one rather disgruntled looking young man. His hair was a mess and there was a glowing red mark covering his jaw. A second, equally oversized, young man stood in front of the door; his gaze equal parts frustrated and curious. Her sight glazed over again and she slumped sideways on to the bed, head barely missing a neatly laid out pillow._

_“Don’t do this to me again jie-jie. My face hurts as much as my heart.” There was a pout in Tao's voice as he slunk off to the bathroom, leaving her alone with Chanyeol. who stood by the door, watching her. Breaking out of their staring match in record time, she flopped down on the bed without making a move to wash her face. So what if her skin was a mess the next morning? It wasn't like she was going to be allowed to see the light of day again for some time. Not when the press broke that night’s antics. Though, it was probably already out there knowing how fast things moved in Seoul by that point._

_“You really can’t do this again. He was scared, Amber. You know how much he adores you.” The words cut deep, and she felt shame for the first time. Striking Tao had probably taken it too far. Chanyeol’s deep voice always seemed to level her off; he was soothing when he wanted to be, even if he was a hyperactive child in a giant’s body the rest of the time. His voice was one of the reasons she preferred male company if she was honest; there was something incredibly grounding about it. Something that pulled her back into reality._

_Letting out a groan, she tugged her wig off and threw it limply, barely making its way off the bed. The crumpled synthetic fibres were a harsh reminder of how horrific the night had gone. Lord knew how anyone fell for it; in this harsh light, it looked so artificial, so obviously straw like and artificial. She was glad it was off, the netting had left her itchy and red. There was a sigh and the sound of feet crossing the floor to the bed. “Don’t run off again. Call me or Heechul...any of us. We’ll keep you safe. We’ll help you.”_

_She snorted, taking to staring at the wall, only glancing over when she felt a tugging; apparently her night’s chivalrous knight thought it was okay to take her shoes off. There was a feeble attempt to kick his hands off her feet, but he did his best to ignore her. She sniffed, avoiding his gaze for as long as she could. It was cutting, it was honest. It disturbed her deeply; there was something shockingly raw to it. Maybe he genuinely did care, but who was she to say with the world they worked in?_

_These fearful whisperings came from dark corners more and more often in recent times. She had put it down to being tired, but the doubts and uncertainties crept in more and more often in recent years. Maybe it was that she was growing up, starting to really understand the world around her. Maybe there was no paranoia, no ridiculous obsessions. In this state, they were far more believable than the posed, biased logic she heard from so many people._

_“You have no idea how to help me. None of you do.”_

_The words slipped out, barely more than a whisper, before she could really think about what she was saying, what they meant. How the two in the room would react to her confession. The sounds from the other end of the room stopped as the door to the bathroom opened and the bed next to her dipped. It became silent; she didn’t have to look up to know that the other one had heard her. To know he would object deeply to it. She didn’t need to look at him to know he would be hurt._

_Shrugging her jacket off, she leant in to a warm embrace as an arm wrapped around her shoulders, dragging her down. The other side of the bed dipped, protesting under the weight it was not built to handle. A second arm wriggled its way between the two bodies, pulling her ever so slightly away from the body in front of her. At first she whined, not wanting to have to be away from the comfort. She wanted to whine and hide in it, away from reality. A hand under her chin pulled her eyes up, to meet the Chanyeol’s scrutiny. He seemed to contemplate her for a moment before letting her go, tucking her head back into his neck. The arm left her shoulders, abandoned position her head, but instead pulled the third body in the bed closer, sandwiching her between them._

_“Heechul-hyung went through hell when Hangeng left, only to be denied any opportunity to see him again. He hasn’t been the same since…” There was no need to finish that sentence. Some would say it was unusual just how attached Heechul was to the Chinese idols in the company, but he felt the losses as deeply as any of the others did. “Jinki-hyung has to play the fool and humiliate himself on a daily basis. He has sustained more injuries through faking it than the exhaustion it started out with.” There was a crack in his voice, genuine concern for a man she didn’t realise he was even that close with. Certainly their interactions weren’t too well known. “Then there’s Changmin hyung and…” He faltered, swallowing. A sigh was followed by the press of chapped lips – dry and hot – against her forehead._

_“We have ways Amber, we can help you and you can help us.” There was concern in his voice though, genuine concern, as a second set of hands unzipped her dress, pushing her to sit for just long enough to tug it off her before encasing her once again between the two bodies. Silence passed for what felt like a lifetime before she spoke again. “And how is that?”_

_There was a warm splash on her cheek._

________________________________________

That would not be the last tear shed for her, not by Chanyeol and not by anyone else in their little network.

She could recall waking up, covered by two slumbering giants who were none too pleased by her attempts to move them around. Their grumbling was harmless, much like puppies if she were to make any comparison. With a yawn, Chanyeol had pulled Tao in closer and drifted back into a deeper sleep. It was endearing in a way, to see their dependence on one another. It was heart-breaking too, to think back and know how far from her group mate’s embraces she would fall.

If she’d known then where the two little pills on the side would take her, maybe she would have turned back. Or then, maybe she would have ploughed on, more determined than ever. Hindsight was a wonderful thing, but it rarely brought the clarity so many seemed to think it did.

It was odd though, how it echoed this situation so closely. There was someone else undressing her, tugging at her shoes, and talking to her. A body behind her, keeping her upright and still for another to work their magic on the confounding buttons and laces keeping her modesty intact. Try as she might, she couldn’t make out what was being said. It was like she’d been plunged underwater; everything was muffled, far away and incomprehensible over the thrum of blood rushing about her body. 

Or…maybe it was because she was suddenly submerged in water. At which point she had been moved, she couldn’t say exactly, though it was almost certainly when her eyes had slipped closed for what felt like a split second. There were still arms around her waist; strong and warm. Safe. They felt safe more than anything else. She belatedly came to the realisation that whoever it was holding her had climbed in still clothed: wet denim had a very distinct sensation. She was sure it was for her own good that she was still held even now; if the way her head would slam back against her protector’s shoulder every time her eyes drifted shut was any indication, she certainly wasn’t safe at the moment. 

_“How did you get yourself into this state?”_

The voice behind her wasn’t harsh, but there was little humour in it. Their tone matched the grim expression on their face – both their faces looking over at Sunny – and all she could offer in way of an explanation was a sigh. It was a tone people didn’t use her very often any more, most preferring to raise their voice in same vain hope that she was still affected by their open, impassioned aggression. An aggression they tried to mask as concern, though concern did not require raised voices and tears, she was sure of that much.

_“We should have done something sooner.”_

It was a comment mostly made between themselves. Between Sunny and her white knight for the evening, but Amber disagreed. Even if she couldn’t find the words, she had to disagree. None of this was his fault. If anything, it was her own. She had allowed herself to fall this far, she had allowed herself to slip into this state of disregard for her personal wellbeing. Her hair was far longer than she had ever been comfortable with, she had become known as a recluse within their professional world: no longer was she the energetic, social butterfly she had been known and loved as. Her weight could plummet and then sky rocket the next week: stability was not something she was overly familiar with any more. More recently though, it was in a very fixed, gradual decline. Yet, she was never called out on it; other idols, those still with public love, would have raised concern by now. Even those whose companies cared for would have had concerns raised by now. But not Amber; they’d all given up on Amber. Her skin was starting to really suffer after a short period of it actually being okay. Breakouts had once been rare, but now they were more extensive, they lasted longer and scarred with a far greater ease than they should have. They took longer to heal, longer to fade (if they faded at all) and were far more prone to infection. She was more prone to infection in general; she felt constantly ill. It didn’t matter whether it was a chest infection, norovirus, or something more severe, if she hadn’t had it by now, she was going to get it. Her hair was limp and falling out, though there was still enough of it to hide the true extent if just how bad it was, or there was for now at least.

She knew what those covert glances between the network meant. She knew their fears. Frankly, she scared herself most days. Most others had shown some improvement; she was the only one continuing to go downhill, and she was picking up speed. 

_“She might be a mess, but there are still people who care.”_

The worlds filtered through and she huffed; it could have almost been called laughter for how close it was. It was as close as she could get to objecting, refuting, their claim. Who was left that really cared that much? Hadn’t she pushed them all away yet? She tried to force herself to sit up, tried to dig deep. She was going to manage to do something for herself goddamn it. She had to. She wasn’t a child who needed their hand holding for the most basic of things. And yet, as she thrashed and pulled as best she could, she found it became harder and harder. A hand came, sifting its way through her hair, drawing off most of the water settled there, dragging her back against a chest. It was warm and she was oh so cold; did she really have to keep fighting? Why was she fighting in the first place? They weren’t there to hurt her, she knew these people, they were there to help.  
Her breath came in shallow, rattling against bony ribs and forcing exhausted muscles to keep working. She was too tired for this; too tired to keep her eyes open, too tired to hold her head up. Too tired to keep fighting. Breathing hurt, thinking hurt. She was sure at this point the pain in her ribs and her back came from her heart, desperate to stop for just a minute. If she had the energy, she’d cry; there had been a time when she could do nothing else. She couldn’t anymore. It all just hurt far too much. Trying to stay alive hurt too much. 

"Oh, my sweet Eunyounggie, how did you get so bad?" A soft voice eased it’s way into her world as she let herself shutdown, drifting somewhere warm and dark and far away from all the endless aching. She rattled on about nothing in particular and everything she could think of. It was cute to hear someone still using that Korean name she'd been given. Maybe she was right about there still being people who loved her, maybe she wasn't completely without hope. Maybe she wasn’t entirely alone. The delusion tried so hard to knock her back; the whispered voices and manic thrum under her skin pinned her down, even when she scrabbled for a purchase, for some kind of solid hope. 

No...she couldn't say she was entirely alone these days, that would be denying her Taobei of whom he claimed was his Mama now. At some point, she’d found him clinging to her like a lost child, watching and waiting on her actions as some sort of guide. Though she worked so hard to demonstrate what a terrible role model she was, he continued to dig his heels in and fight anyone who tried to come between them. It wasn’t just him though; at some point, her rebellious nature had gained her the position of the China line’s mother figure. They could have had anyone, and yet they picked the biggest fuck up in the company. 

Personally, she found Tao’s new pet name both hilarious and adorable at the same time, Tao on the other hand would wrinkle his nose up and try to insist he wasn't a baby any more, no matter how much evidence she stacked up against him. His whining and the way he’d insist on sitting as physically close to people as he could manage – often climbing right into their laps. The oversized, fluffy jumpers that almost certainly belonged to Sehun and not him. Huang Zitao was definitely more of a leather and denim kind of guy. He did not still own stuffed animals; Jongdae must have left them the last time he crashed. She’d laugh off his puffed-up indignation, ruffle his hair, ask him if he wanted more chicken. He’d still be pouting through the next morning, wounded pride in tact for days.

Then there was Chanyeol and this little...could she call it a support network? It was something like that, and god knows it had kept all those connected from completely cracking up over the last few years, if not entirely present and correct. They gave a damn about each other, they kept on top of each other’s commitments, they knew when enough was enough. It was okay to be weak in front of them: you couldn’t let them down when they had zero expectations of you after all. All they asked of anyone was that they tried to be a better person, or at least as good as they were the day before. 

But how could she almost have forgotten Sunny? Which hopeless drunk would Sunny dote on if she wasn't around? Maybe one of the trainees; she really hadn’t been paying enough attention to the upcoming debutantes to know who was going to be the next hopeless mess, losing themselves at the whiff of a beer bottle. Soap clogged up the tiny rivulets dripping from her hand, pooling in exposed collarbones. Her head lolled back as she was lifted from the water and wrapped in endless, fluffy towels. The sloshing of the water in the tub and the wet slap of soaking material on the floor echoed for just a moment, deafened by the soft hiss of a closing door. She was settled on a bed, and the world span with a tug and a sway as her head was rubbed in an attempt to dry off her hair. Opening her eyes, she found herself staring at the bright smile of one of her closest companions; Sunny never failed to deliver when it came to endless amounts of positive energy and hope. She was one of the purest people Amber had ever known, despite having been witness to some of life’s greatest depravities

"You look better already. Less like you're about to fall asleep on me." She was smiling as she spoke, pulling a familiar t-shirt out of a bag and stuffing it over Amber’s head. Maybe she should have shown signs of indignation. Maybe she should have objected to being washed and dressed like a baby, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She was just so tired, and Sunny was just so nice; couldn’t Amber have nice moments anymore? Did she not deserve them? Though she wasn’t as inclined to let her eyes close, she still couldn’t find the energy to do much more than hum in response. She still felt like she was swimming; words would drop in and out of focus, and still the world pitched as it pleased. “Normally you're one of the last to leave, not one of the first. I think Lay might be sad that you stole his title." Her tone was joking, but Amber didn't respond. She couldn’t respond. It was taking everything she had to focus on what was being said, let alone formulate a coherent reply. There was a sigh as the towel on her head joined a sudden pile on the floor: when had that happened? A blanket was drawn up over her hips as the door opened and her knight of the night joined the duo, sitting down and taking her hand in his.

"You haven't enjoyed any of this, have you?"

She looked at him, and shook her head gently. No; she hadn’t enjoyed it at all. She’d despised every second of it, yet endured it to make Kris happy. Anything to see his ridiculous smile, to hear praises spill from his lips. It was pathetic, she knew it deep down, but she just couldn’t help herself where Kris was concerned. She’d stopped asking how high years ago; he just had to ask her to jump these days and she would do her damnedest to make it up high enough. There was a dip and crinkling as he caved, twisting and settling himself down, head in her lap as she took to playing with his hair as she so often did. It was comforting for both of them; a gentle touch that held no malice, no resentment, for him and something to ground her; a hand in his hair and arms wrapped lazily around her waist, her thighs, her neck…anything he could touch and coil himself around. It made it all real again. It’d become habit over the more recent months, and was met with more than a few rolled eyes. He’d corrupt himself by association, or so he’d be warned. People would want nothing to do with him when the whispers start, or so they’d said. They made no attempts to hide their familial affection for one another: though he said she was like a sister, Amber knew he viewed her as more of a mother. Not a good mother, but a mother nonetheless. A mother who listened to him rant and ramble to his heart’s content, let him order any food he wanted and consequences be damned. A mother who could break his heart with one look when he screwed up, and build him back up with a watered down embrace.

“Zitao, you can’t sleep here. You know he’ll only come looking for you.” He whined, burying his face further into her lap, wrapping tighter around her. She wasn’t going to complain: he was warm and he got her, and those were two things she wanted right now. The groomsmen be damned in their demands and hunt for the oh so tame big cat. There was a mumbled Don’t care and Amber shrugged; they could separate them if they really wanted to deal with a night full of pouting and childish whining from all involved.

“Do you really want to upset Jessica more than you have to?”

There was a grumble as he shifted, her hands falling from his head into her new empty lap. Shivering at the loss of heat, she sighed and looked up, hopeful that maybe Sunny would change her mind about separating them.

“Why is everything always about Jessica?” He was starting already and something told Amber it was going to be a good showing. Standing up, he reached for wet clothes and stomped his way back into the bathroom. The splatter of wrung out water was only drowned out by his ranting. “Jessica, you’re so pretty. Jessica, you’re so talented. Jessica, Jessica, Jessica.” Amber couldn’t hold back the chuckle; he had that pretty girl whine down to a perfect art by now, and it was hilarious. It was funnier to watch him fling his hands around at the same time. “It’s not right, it’s not fair and you know it.” Stomping out of the bathroom, he rolled the clothes up in a towel and turned his glare on Sunny; though she knew he was annoyed, he came across as more of an irritated kitten than a grown man, all puffed up and endless yowls.

“You know what? No, it’s not okay, but what can we do about it? People live to kiss other people’s backsides.” Pushing him towards the door, Sunny was clearly done with his tantrum. She got it, everyone got it; they were angry at the world. They were angry at the way things were. They had no power outside of venting to one another, choice but to listen to the growing disquiet. It was in times as delicate as this that none of them wanted to be apart from each other. Their co-dependence was as toxic as any cocktail of drugs and alcohol that they could have possibly consumed, fuelled by the fear that any of them could be cut at any moment. They could wake up to any one of them no longer being there. “It wasn’t that long ago, everyone wanted to know us. Everyone wanted to be seen with us, and now look. It’s a way of life.” Shutting the door in his face, she turned back with a sigh, leaning on it to keep him from bursting back through the door, as he was prone to doing on one of his rare rages. He was more of a baby than he let on most of the time, but he was definitely one to avoid when he got fired up.

"She tends to get her own way, doesn't she?" It was Amber who broke the silence. Her voice was scratchy and weak; talking was exhausting, and when she was already on her knees (so to speak) the extra effort wasn’t exactly something she wanted to be spending.

"Not always. I mean...okay, so maybe more than the rest of us, but not always." Sunny sounded like she was trying to defend her, but wasn't entirely sold on it herself. Who could blame her, really? Going back on herself before she had even finished the sentence was a dead giveaway for just how little belief she had in her words. She faltered in folding the towels, sighing and taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Guys." Amber muttered; it was always guys where she tended to lose out. Maybe her boyish ways had something to do with it: why date a bro whent hey could have some delicate princess to make them feel strong and capable and oh so masculine? A look of confusion passed over Sunny’s face. The thought process was giving her a hard time, and who could blame her? Amber wasn’t exactly being helpful with her non-existent elaborations. No, not just when it came to guys...when it came to guys that Amber liked and she said something about.

"Oh, no. That's probably where she gets her way the-" Sunny sounded like she was trying to write it off. The least? Really? Amber snorted, cutting her down before she could even attempt to finish that particular sentence. No, it was not okay and Amber wasn't going to just sit back and let her go there. She pulled away from the hand that tried to reach her, to comfort her. But, rather than getting anywhere productive, Amber almost toppled off the bed altogether, only staying on for quick reflexes and a vice like grip on her shoulder. She didn't believe it, not for one second. Precious Princess Jessica always got the man, even if he wasn't hers to take. Damn her, and how the hell could Sunny still defend her after everything? After all the hurt she'd caused so many people. After everything she'd just said. What world did Sunny live in that she thought there was still room for her to shield the overgrown child?

"She's really got to you, hasn't she?" The voice behind her was small. Letting out a sigh, she pulled on a pair of pyjama bottoms and sat down on the bed. How long did it take for her to realise? Women were meant to be the ones with emotional intelligence, and yet it had taken the one girl she was still close to much longer than it had taken one of the guys to figure it out.

“She won again.” Her voice started to crack at the end. It didn't make sense; why did she have to marry Kris out of all of them? Any of the others she might have convinced herself to be okay with, but Kris? Kris she’d really given a damn about. Kris had been…Kris had been special. Kris had been different. He was just so perfect: he was athletic, he played multiple instruments, he spoke multiple languages, he loved his mother more than his skincare routine (which was saying something)…and then there was his smile. He had a smile that could replace the sun so far as Amber was concerned. She knew she was a lovesick puppy, and she realised she was probably going to end up dying of a broken heart if she didn’t move on like she had in the past. And yet…and yet she just couldn’t bring herself to forget about him.

"You really liked him, didn't you?" Sunny asked, though really it wasn't a question that needed asking. They both already knew that Amber had done a lot more than just liked Kris. She’d really liked Henry, Donghae, Key, Junmyeon...every single one of them. All her crushes had been just that; liking. She’d gotten over them soon enough. A nod of her head was enough to spend the room spinning again, and she closed her eyes, resting her head against the wall. It's like she went out of her way to take them away, like she couldn't be happy if Amber was and she didn't get it. “Did she try to hurt me? Am I being dumb?” She gasped out, voice fading. This was taking a toll on her, and as much as she wanted to sleep, her mind was starting to wake back up from its fog. She felt real again. She wanted to take back her words: How many times had she been told it was all in her head? How many times had she been told Jessica wasn't that conniving? That wicked? How many times had she been told to stop being so stupid and to stop thinking so highly of herself? 

"No. No you're not being dumb, you’re not paranoid. Amber, I…I think there's something you need to know..."


End file.
